T’was the week before Christmas in the well of the House; not a speaker was spouting, not even a grouch. Their stockings were hung at the Treasury with care, in hope St. Bernanke soon would be there.

House members were anxious to be home in their beds, with sweet dreams of pensions filling their heads.

The speaker and leader were trading their caps, but they weren’t quite yet ready for a truce and a nap. Then out on the Mall there arose a great clatter, and they sprang from their places to see what was the matter.

What to their wondering eyes should appear, but a flying limo with a man in the rear. The slender young passenger was an obvious charmer, so they knew in a moment it was Santa Obama.

More eager than reindeer his cabinet came, and he whistled and shouted and called them by name: Now Kenny, now Tommy, now Hilly, now Timmy! On Eric, on Hilda, on Janet, on Gary. To the top of the Treasury, to the top of the Fed! Now dash away! Dash away! There’s good news to spread!

Next up to the capitol dome they all flew, their sack full of promises, and Santabama in tow. From within the great building could be heard many tears, of senators begging to go home for New Year’s.

As the speaker and leader were turning around, down the chimney came Santabama with a bump and a bound. “I’m here for a deal he was quick to say. We’ll work out a compromise before Christmas day.”

So they hassled and hustled; both houses joined in - a cooperative effort to create a win-win. Goodies for everyone was their focused endeavor, making holiday magic by working together.

The bill went to China at the end of the day. The do-gooders would have it no other way. Saint Bernanke filled stockings to play his part, printing zillions of dollars with all of his heart.

With pride in their work, the teams heard the whistle, and they flew away home like a shot from a pistol. We could hear them exclaim as they drove out of sight, don’t worry dear citizens, next year we’ll do right.